


Drunken Conversation

by Athene



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2754248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athene/pseuds/Athene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaius watches Wingul while he drinks. Wingul watches Gaius while he drinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a comment by YumeHanabi. Hints of GaiWin.

Wingul was fascinating to watch while he drank.  
  
It was an uncommon occurrence for the esteemed tactician to drink with the soldiers during the campaign, but he was encouraged to do so as Taurus made larger gains against Melard’s forces. Supplies were no longer a concern as the small villages welcomed the coming of the Dawn King, and spirits had become the choice of drink when the troops settled near civilization. Nils had a brief concern considering Wingul’s age, but conceded that a little wine once in a while would likely not harm the former patriarch’s growth.  
  
Nils’ concerns apparently did not sit well with his friend; when they sat together, Wingul would insist on drinking more wine, despite Nils’ hesitation to keep pouring after a single cup. Perhaps he saw it as a harmless way to fluster his perpetually concerned friend, smirking into his cup as he finished a third serving.  
  
By the third occasion, Nils took notice of Wingul’s game and chided him, taking the wine bottle with him in a blatant attempt to curb his friend’s behavior. Already pleasantly inebriated, Wingul only waved at Nils as he left, half of his face obscured by one hand as he leaned against the table.  
  
Gaius slid into the spot that had been recently vacated, giving the young man what few could interpret as an amused look. While many of the warriors were jovial or rowdy while drinking, Wingul seemed hazily contemplative and relaxed, watching the goings-on with a faint smile.  
  
It was a rather nice change; even when they would occasionally joke around, there would be biting sarcasm close to the surface, as if his intelligence came hand in hand with deprecating wit. With each passing year, Wingul held himself with greater control and left behind the soft tentativeness of youth and inexperience—a necessity for one who took on a leadership role.  
  
“Enjoying yourself?” Having brought over his own bottle of one of the stronger wines offered by the villagers, Gaius asked his question while filling up his cup.  
  
 _“Yan’su,”_ came the murmured reply, followed by a brief silence; Gaius counted the seconds as the Long Dau prince realized he had slipped into his mother tongue. Dropping his hand from his face, Wingul glanced at his commander and tried to move past his mistake. “No singing tonight?”  
  
“No singing tonight.” He chuckled as Wingul’s eyes strayed away, following his gaze towards the unit that would usually sing bawdy drinking songs by their fourth round. “Were you still interested in drinking?”  
  
Wingul squinted at the bottle Gaius had brought along, eyes almost disappearing in the shadows not dispersed by firelight. “I suppose. But Nils is gone.” He made sure to drink the last mouthful of his current wine before passing his cup.  
  
Gaius raised a brow at the comment, filling the younger man’s cup regardless before returning it. “Do you need Nils to be here with you?”  
  
“It was fun.” Wingul adopted a mischievous smirk, shrugging his shoulders as he turned his attention to the new wine. Even his smirk was different while he was drinking, Gaius observed. There was just a little more of that childishness that Wingul usually reined in, as if he was on the verge of laughter from those short words alone. “He thought to control how much I drank.”  
  
Gaius took a long swig from his cup. “To no avail.”  
  
A soft sound of agreement was the tactician’s only reply as he sought to mimic the way Gaius drank his wine, and he quickly realized his error with a series of wet coughs. _“Sutidiimugu…”_  
  
Wingul waved off Gaius’ attempt to pat his back with little success, ducking his head to hide the flush that reached from his neck to his cheeks. There was no irate muttering to mitigate the blow to his pride; his current level of alcohol left him quiet and almost shy in his embarrassment, too muddled to be angry but not enough to be unashamed.  
  
“I should have warned you,” Gaius apologized, moving his hand from Wingul’s back to his shoulder. “Do you need anything?”  
  
“I’m fine.” There was one last cough before Wingul lifted his head, blinking back tears brought on by the sting of the strong wine. With a determined huff, he took another swig and promptly winced.  
  
“There’s no need to push yourself.” It was amusing—and perhaps a little concerning, were he the younger man’s caretaker—how that challenging spark refused to die even as Wingul floundered through inebriation.  
  
“I’m not.” The former patriarch rolled his eyes once, sliding his cup to Gaius again. _“Piodi.”_  
  
Realizing what he had gotten himself into, Gaius scoured the site for any sign of Nils before sighing and picking up the wine bottle again.  
  
At the very least, he could keep Wingul from passing out on the table when the next cup proved to be too much for him.  
  
x x x  
  
“It’s not fair.”  
  
Gaius had to admit that he was impressed; Wingul had managed to make it through half of his cup with little more than the occasional pained sniffle. He carefully pushed the wine bottle further away from where they sat, not wanting to pour another drink for the increasingly intoxicated tactician.  
  
“Hm?” He glanced back just in time to feel the other man lean against his shoulder, catching sight of his frown and unfocused eyes.  
  
Wingul lethargically lifted one hand to prod at Gaius’ arm, his tone accusatory. “You’re … not drunk. At all.” It seemed to take some effort to form words—or perhaps form words that were not Long Dau.  
  
“Should I be?” Gaius glanced down at his nearly empty cup. “This is only my fourth drink.”  
  
“You’re _never_ drunk.” Wingul curled his hand into a fist, giving Gaius an unimpressive punch to the bicep. “So … not fair.”  
  
He coughed lightly, lips twitching as he resisted the urge to smile at the unusual action. Even when Wingul would become irritated at him, he would not become physical—likely because he knew just how ineffective it would be. “I’m sure I’ve been drunk before…”  
  
Despite his face being tinged red with inebriation, Wingul still managed to concentrate enough to glare at a spot just above Gaius’ left ear. “You pretend. To blend in. Most miss it, but … not me.” There was a proud note to his response, even if his gaze was soon wandering away.  
  
The fact that he had noticed caught Gaius by surprise, but not for long; he quickly rationalized that it was a sign of a good tactician to notice something like that. Still, he found himself raising a brow. “So you were watching.”  
  
 _“Yan’su.”_  Wingul’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned against the other man’s shoulder again, lips almost brushing the curve of his ear. _“Yaio edin etetsuumugu.”_  
  
Blinking twice, Gaius finished the rest of his wine in one gulp and took hold of Wingul’s shoulder with his free hand. “I believe it’s time to go.” Even if no one else in the vicinity could understand what was said, the words had made him much more aware of the young man’s proximity and body language.  
  
Wingul only tittered, stumbling as he was dragged to his feet. “But it’s _true._ ” His words were muffled as he spoke into the thick fabric of Gaius’ sleeve.  
  
Gaius patted his back with a placating grunt, steering Wingul out of the building and towards their encampment. Wingul seemed largely focused on putting one foot in front of the other, but about halfway to his tent, Gaius could hear him mumbling the battle jingle that still entertained them two years after its creation. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly as Wingul paused as he forgot words, gently offering reminders for his wine-addled memory.  
  
Nils was not at the tent, probably called away to help one of the other Long Dau soldiers in the camp; despite how the Long Dau army had been integrated into Taurus, a small percentage still preferred to interact with other Long Dau tribesmen over ‘outsiders.’ Pulling the flap aside, Gaius glanced around the neatly kept tent before pulling Wingul inside after him.  
  
“…In a hurry, ‘s the Sound and Fury…”  
  
Smiling faintly, Gaius set Wingul next to the cold hearth and left him to gather his beddings. By the time he returned for him, the former prince was dozing in a sitting position, neck tilted at an awkward angle as he threatened to crumple to the ground.  
  
Wingul barely stirred as Gaius half-carried him over to the prepared bed, only blinking drowsily when he realized his boots were being pulled off. “What…?”  
  
“It’s time to sleep.” Once he was done setting aside those boots, Gaius pulled the blanket over Wingul, smoothing the fabric over his chest and shoulders. “It’s been a long day.”  
  
A soft “Mm” of acknowledgment followed, though Wingul seemed more interested in staring hazily at the man sitting next to his bed. “I embarrassed you.”  
  
The comment was made with such terrible clarity that, for a few seconds, Gaius wondered if he had been fooled by some elaborate acting. When all that followed was a tired yawn, he relaxed and reached over to flick some stray strands of hair away from Wingul’s eyes. “You could never embarrass me,” he assured him, hand lingering on his cheek for a moment. “Rest, Lin. We can have a talk tomorrow.”  
  
Embarrassment had never once entered his mind in regard to Wingul—at least, not embarrassment on his own behalf. The young tactician was another story.  
  
Thin, regal fingers slipped out from underneath the blanket, anchoring on Gaius’ wrist as if to keep him from leaving. No words were spoken as Wingul slowly shut his eyes, the only significant sounds in the area being his deepening breaths as he fell asleep.  
  
The Dawn King remained sitting there in the cold tent for several minutes, in no hurry to untangle the fingers wrapped around his wrist.  
  
He hoped that they would have a talk tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Yan’su = Yes  
> Sutidiimugu = Strong  
> Piodi = Pour  
> Yaio edin etetsuumugu = You are amazing
> 
> This piece was originally half its length. Funnily enough, at some point I was playing with the idea of it becoming nsfw, but instead it ended up fluffy. Probably a more fitting tone, with these two.


End file.
